I'm here again.  A layer of frustration clouding everything I do - a faint desire (but one too lazy to action) for everything to end, for life to stop coursing through me, to just be free from this repetitive cycle of pain and misery. 

I believe in my heart that I am not an angry person.  I believe very much that I am not at all my brother, who lashes out at those around him and constantly feels remorse for not being able to control himself, nor my mother, who lives mired in a perpetual state of victimhood.  

To feel like I am constantly prosecuted for a bloodline I've all but forsaken so that I (me, just me!) can find some semblance of peace and happiness in my life feels so incredibly unfair.   

The irony of all of this is that she is quite possibly the most stubborn person that I know.  The very notion to be offended when I get upset at something she's told me tells me she doesn't care to understand my perspective, nor does she perceive it as problematic.  

We had a difference in perspective, borne primarily from a misunderstanding.  What she said was upsetting to me.  Her reaction to that was even more upsetting. 

This continual cycle is unproductive and painful, and I fear what the future holds for us when we no longer have the children to tether us together.